


Steal The Night

by lionsuicide



Category: DC Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 13:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14045499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionsuicide/pseuds/lionsuicide
Summary: “Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?”





	Steal The Night

**Author's Note:**

> This one has been something I wanted to do for a very long time. By long I mean since I’ve joined the app two years ago.   
> I never wrote it because I had very little faith in my writing. I mean I still do but I’ve improved a lot so I wanted to give it a shot and see if I could do the story idea justice. 
> 
> Before I start I want to state, that you should check out Madame Petite’s artwork on Tumblr.

 

This place... is disturbing.

The hall I am in is disturbing.

It was dark.  
Only a few bright white lights every few feet to break up the darkness.

The walls are dirty and white.  
If one looks closely they could see the nail marks engraved into the wall. As well as a few dark splotches of.... something.

I don’t know what it is not do I want ever to know.

Every few feet on the wall in between the nail markings was either a door or a cell.  
The doors were locked and the cells were pitch black.

I couldn’t see in the cell but I know whatever was in there could see me.

It was silent.  
There where people walking aimlessly in each direction, yet none of them made a sound. The sound of their feet muffled by the once white slippers.

The air was still.  
Like the saying you could cut the tension with a knife.

Time has no meaning.  
Outside this place the sun is shining. The birds are singing. People should be heading off to lunch.  
In here time had no meaning. It was useless to know the time.

The sound of dripping water in the distance never ceased.  
No matter which direction you walk in, no matter how far you walk, the sound of dripping follows you everywhere.

The people were creepy.  
Their skin a dusty, unhealthy pale color.  
Their eyes devoid of emotion, of life.  
They walk around me, leaving a space.  
They came in from the darkness and went into the darkness.  
None of them look at me as I walk pass.  
The few brave souls who dare to do so only did for a few seconds.

A few seconds was an eternity.

The feeling of being watch.  
No matter who I look at, no matter which direction I stare off into the feeling of eyes on my body never left.

I hate this place.

No matter how many times I come here, I am never used to the feeling of dread.

The feeling of hopelessness.

The feeling of... fear?

I take a deep breath and instantly regret it.

The light smell of waste and sulfur enters my nose and takes over my senses.

My eyes water just a bit as I try not to gag.

These living conditions are not by any means legal.

The only people who could manage to live here are the mentally unstable.

The people who are trapped here, should not live under these conditions, yet no one helps them.

I ... don’t help them.

They are the forgot and the damned.

It is not my place to help them.

I walk to my destination.

A door that is labeled

Joker

I knock three times in quick succession.

An alarm sounds.

The people walking behind me don’t pause, don’t react to the loud and sudden noise that suddenly fills the place.

They are used to it.

I am not.

Despite my fear.

Despite the urge to run and hide.

Despite the urge to go home, take the hottest shower that would have been the devil flinch, and hid under my covers, I stay put.

My heart speeds up.

My hands get clammy.

If you look into my eyes, you’ll see my pupils dilate.

The doors open slowly towards me.

I step back so as to avoid getting hit in the face.

After what seems like an eternity the doors are fully opened.

I step inside.

The door slams shut.

How a door opens slowly but shuts quickly is beyond me.

The silence is unnerving.

The dripping sound that followed me in the hall disappears.

In the center of the room is a man.

He is sitting at a table.

Strapped to the chair.

His arms bolted down to the arms tightly.

His legs bolted to the front of the chairs.

His chest wrapped tightly in metal to the back of the chair.

You would think that would be enough to hold a man down.

You thought wrong.

On top of the metal bars holding him to the chair, he had heavy chains going from his wrists, chest, and ankles to the bolts in the ground around him.

The only thing the man has free is his head.

He stares at me.

Breaks down everything about my day in his head.

Sherlock Holmes has nothing on this man.

I should feel afraid with the way he’s staring but I don’t. I love the attention.

He knows I love the attention.

The man strapped to the chair was dangerous.

Not the type of dangerous you are thinking of.  
Take that dangerous and times it by one hundred.  
Now take that and add fifty.

This man was insane.

Utterly insane.

This man was mad.

His brain corrupt, his mind damaged.

Yet he was also brilliant.

Smart.

Intelligent.

Cunning.

Deadly.

Charming...

That is a dangerous mix.

His bright blue eyes follow my movements.

I place the folders I had clutched into my arms onto the table.

I take a seat and open the file labeled, C.

I look down and read the words but it is all a farce.

I have every line memorized. Every single word committed to memory.

Even if I didn’t his piercing gaze on my body was a distraction.

A very welcomed distraction.

“Ahhh it if isn’t my beautiful little Harley Quinn. How is daddy’s little monster?” He mummers.

On the outside I feign annoyance and roll my eyes. I sigh as if I was fed up with him and his names.

On the inside is different, I swoon under his adoring words. I blush heavily at his undivided attention. I yearn for more.

I yearn for him.

He sees right past my display.

He knows my tales.

He knows my body language.

He knows me.

He laughs suddenly and loudly.

“ ** _HAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA_** ”

Just as quickly as it came it left and he did nothing but stare again.

The silence is deafening.

I almost wish for the dripping sound.

He wasn’t going to break the silence so I did.

“Castiel. How many times do I need to tell you? My name is not Harley Quinn.”

His face hardens.

The bright blue eyes I love to stare into and fantasize about at night darken.

He smiles.

It looks painful.

His head falls to his chest and his shoulders shake.

**_“HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA”_ **

The laugh is not as long as the first time.

He brings his head back up and he stares into my soul once again.

“You’ll always be my little Harley Quinn and I’ll always be your Joker.”

I glare at him and say nothing.

He sighs but smiles (a very unsettling, very fake) smile.

_“Why so serious Dean?”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Check out Petite Madame's artwork on tumblr.   
> This story is based off of her Joker!Castiel, Harley Quinn!Dean, Poison Ivy!Sam art.


End file.
